Based on an article in our community newspaper.
Alone at the table, Marjorie had
just finished dinner, when she thought
she’d best go outside and bring Emma
her 10-year-old cat in for the night.
Marjorie opened the door, stepped
onto the patio. Emma was sitting
at the edge of the concrete, staring
out into the twilight as cats will do.
Before another second could elapse
before even a breath could pass, two
dark, blurred, furred forms leaped out
of the bushes and attacked the cat.
The coyotes tore Emma apart as Marjorie
screamed. She still screamed as they tore
off into the darkening day with Emma,
now just pieces of fur and flesh, a meal.
Gone the kitten, the helpless, blind baby,
Marjorie had fed by hand. Gone the
playmate who pounced on spiders, batted
ping pong balls and made Marjorie laugh.
Gone the calming companion who napped
in the sun. Gone the friend who curled up
next to her as Marjorie read. Gone the belief
that she lived in a safe and tamable world.
Ann Keiffer
September, 2012
Photo Credit: leah333.blogspot
